With support from our Instructor Development Funds, I was able to attend Camp Confluence, organized by Partners for Youth Empowerment (PYE) in Whidbey Island, Washington. Camp Confluence was a 6-day gathering of camp directors, lead facilitators, and staff that are involved with camps based on the Creative Community Model. The Creative Community Model was developed by PYE over decades of youth summer camps across the globe. In their own words from the PYE website:

“With arts-based practices and leading-edge group facilitation strategies, Creative Community Facilitators cultivate environments in which people can realize their potential. By embracing positive risk-taking and free creative expression, youth and adults alike open up to new possibilities. Research shows that creative expression—in a supportive setting—nurtures qualities like empathy, teamwork, and problem solving, while also fostering joy, hope, and the desire for a meaningful life”

At Camp Confluence we talked a lot about the “Emotional Arc” that a camper experiences from the day they enter camp to when they leave, and how to support that transformative experience with community agreements, plenary activities, supported creative risk-taking, free time, nature time, and more. I appreciated the emphasis on the camper’s experience and curating the week’s activities to support their journey.

We also spent a whole day talking about how to further Equity and Anti-Oppression in all levels of our summer camps; from camp staff demographics, to camper recruitment, to food and sleeping arrangements, to incorporating explicit community agreements around equity in the beginning of the camp. It is rare that I am in a space of people so committed, honest, and eager to talk about Anti-Oppression in their institutions and programs and I am very grateful to have participated in those conversations and to emerge with a greater awareness of actions I can bring back to my work. I am looking forward to my upcoming outdoor recreation and summer camp season to see how I can incorporate bits of the creative community model into my work.

I’ve learned a lot of very practical facilitation skills from the PYE trainings and camps I’ve been involved in over the years. I’ve also witnessed many young people and adults (including myself) overcome old stories of fear and self doubt as we explore our creativity, connection to ourselves, connection to others, and connections to nature together in a supportive environment. I believe many of you that work with youth know what I’m talking about when I say that those moments of witnessing youth light up with hope, joy, and connection are what keep me coming back to this work, and giving me hope for the present and future. I am so grateful to be a part of the community at the River House Outdoor Program; a community that is so committed to fostering these types of magical and transformative experiences for youth and adults.

P.S and Fun Fact: A local summer camp hosted by the Oregon Country Fair called Culture Jam is based on the Creative Community Model and brings in facilitators that have led PYE camps across the U.S and internationally. The River House supports Culture Jam each year with a couple days of outdoor play at Fern Ridge! PYE also offers facilitation trainings in the Pacific Northwest each year- check them out at www.pyeglobal.org. Their website also contains many great summer camp and youth program resources!

-The River House Instructor Development Fund (IDF) is an investment in our staff to seek extra training and experiences that can be brought back to their work and personal lives to help enrich experiences for both participants and instructors.

If I had to identify with just one sport, it would be cycling. I’m an instructor for Bike Safety Education and Mountain Bike Adventure summer camps through the River House Outdoor Center. I raced extensively for seven years, two at the national level, and worked at bike shops for several years. I have taught numerous bike skills clinics. When it comes to biking, I know my stuff.

That is not the case with river sports. While I have enjoyed some time rafting, canoeing, SUP’ing, or just hanging out and playing in the water, I’m a total beginner at all river and paddle sports. The truth is, the river scares me a little. I have never been very sure of what’s going on under that blue shimmer and white splashes, so I have remained hesitant to get completely obsessed with any river sport. I tried learning to kayak years ago, and just couldn’t get the roll down, so I gave up.

This will be my first summer working for the River House, and I plan to utilize all the opportunities available to me to expand my knowledge and add to my skills. Oregon offers so many awesome rivers, full fun activity and adventure, so I set for myself the goal to learn more skills and become proficient in a variety of river activities. A big first step was taking a Swiftwater Rescue certification class through American Canoe Association (ACA). I had to miss a few great mountain bike rides, but dedicating my weekend to personal growth and education was absolutely worth it!

Our instructor, Marciel Bieg, also a River House employee, started by laying the groundwork and philosophy—our priorities when doing a rescue. Number one, don’t become another victim! Just a few hours in the classroom covered all the basics. Then we learned to use throw ropes on dry land. By afternoon we were practicing rescue techniques in a rapid near the Autzen Footbridge.

On day two we learned a variety of anchor systems and mechanical advantage systems. My knowledge of rock climbing anchors really helped here, but even those with little experience learned to create safe anchors from a variety of materials. Then we piled on a bus and took to Row River to practice our skills.

We floated down a small rapid, practiced throw ropes and live bait rescue techniques. One of my favorite parts was trying to wade across the swift-moving river. It was a huge challenge, and I found myself floating downstream, never making it to the other side. We crossed with partners, and even rescued a “victim” as a group.

This experience helped me gain an enormous amount of confidence in the river. I am now able to advance my skills and knowledge of rafting and SUP’ing, knowing that I can handle whatever situation arises and help keep myself and the people around me safe.

This course is not just for professional guides. Literally ANYONE spending time in and around the river—it’s Eugene, so that’s pretty much everyone—would benefit from taking a Swiftwater Rescue course, or some kind of river safety education material our course.

I’m looking forward to an awesome summer full of mountain biking and river adventures!

-Misha Fuller

(The River House Instructor Development Fund makes money available for staff to use to better their skills through classes and training. In return the River House receives highly skilled staff and blog posts describing their experiences.)

With all the luck of the sky and the mountains, the storms have returned gifting us all with an abundance of sleet, snow pack, and rain drops. The essence of life. Thanks to an intricate and unexplainable series of fortunate events, I find myself granted the opportunity to travel into the heart of the forest and mountains; to travel into the river itself. What’s more is the unexplainable magic of the opportunity to take part in the re-creation of the experience and adventure within the lives of others, from all walks of life, by means of a sea worthy whitewater raft. Though simple in concept, these adventures and undertakings of which hold the power to shape shift lives and worlds, are also undeniably counterbalanced by the weight of risk.

Once released, the formerly incarcerated face a daunting set of challenges­—a job, a place to live, and, most urgently, breaking the cycle of bad friends and bad habits that can lead to more prison time. Now scientists and activists are asking whether nature may be essential to helping them build new lives.

The linked article from Outside Magazine features our long time instructor Jen Jackson who also runs the mentorship program at Sponsors, an organization in Eugene that helps the formerly incarcerated relearn life beyond prison.

As a lover of the outdoors and the happiness it can bring to one’s life; I can only guess it could do wonders for others that are lost in the negatives that have gotten them in the correctional system. The article highlights some successes and challenges in creating such a program; currently the only one in the nation.

Passage AKA The Boot and Rally

Written by Halle Shirk/ Published on September 30, 2014

What a crazy time. I have to admit, I’m writing this from the safe harbor of Borneo. I had hoped to be able to write to you all every day of passage, but as I’m sure you’ll read, nothing is as you expect on Passage.

This is the story of a girl who got in way over her head (in too many ways), sailed through a storm, became a shellback, saw the deepest darks, fell into a new world, and was humbled by the ocean.

But I suppose I should start at the beginning.

We left Singapore’s fuel dock at about 10:30am and Captain Chris deftly navigated the impossibly busy port where we were cleared by customs. In every direction I looked there were at least 20 barges and dozens of little scows drifting through the mist. The customs guys came by and we all stood at attention at the rail of Argo as they called out our names. Passports were passed ship to ship with a fishing net on a pole, and before long we were cleared to leave port.

We immediately fell into our watch teams and the rhythm of passage life had begun. And with the rhythm of passage came the rhythm of the boat… I’ll leave it to you to check out the video I’ll post of the waves crashing over our bow for a description of the milder rocking and rolling we encountered. At first it was all exhilarating. I was up on the bow staring out at the open ocean before me and a flying fish shot out of the water, skipped a few paces in front of Argo, and disappeared again under the blue. We were finally, finally off the dock! Before dinner, we had our first showers at sea. Everyone got into swimsuits and brought towels and shampoo on deck. Amidst the rocking and rollicking of the ship, we danced under a hose that pumped salt water over our heads, suds up, rinsed in the salty sea, and washed away the salt with a bit of fresh water from our precious store. Old sailors used to call fresh water sweet water. I finally understand why.

At dinner everyone gathered around the cockpit for squeeze (have I mentioned this yet? Squeeze is where you all hold hands, the skipper asks a question like “What is your favorite dinosaur, and what sound do you think it made?” Then the question gets passed around the circle by a squeeze of the hand). We held our cups and bowls carefully and got to know each other more. Everyone was excited to be going somewhere and even though a few people were apprehensive of sea-sickness, everyone was in good spirits. I had on my first scopolamine patch to try to ease myself into passage life as per the suggestion of our Captain. I was particularly excited because as a member of Watch Team 1, I would be standing the midnight to four o’clock watch. The first night watch at sea! I was looking forward to seeing the stars of the southern hemisphere (and was surprised when I noticed a few familiar faces – Orion, Cassiopeia, Cygnus) and sitting on bow watch.

I had no idea how exciting that first bow watch would be! I was perched on starboard side when I first saw it… a bioluminescent glow floating near the boat. And then another, and another! They looked like ghosts. Now, I had been warned about bioluminescence and was looking forward to seeing it; I was excited to have spotted some so soon until I realized that these glowing areas were coming at regular intervals of about ten feet. I scampered back to the cockpit (clipped in to Jack lines*, don’t worry! *cables that run the length of the boat, extra security for night watches) and shouted to Nick, my watch leader, “floats off starboard bow!” At first, we looked around and couldn’t see a thing. I told him that all I could make out was bioluminescence, but that I was sure it was man-made – nothing comes that regularly in the ocean.

Captain Chris popped up to have a look about, but after none of us could spot them again, I went back to bow watch wondering if my Mefloquin (malaria pills) were finally coming through on the hallucinations they warned about. But not fifteen minutes later, there it was again! And this time, my Port side bow watch saw it too. “Floats dead ahead!” we called, and Nick threw Argo into neutral. We got out spot lights and scanned the water. White water bottles shimmered in long lines twisting around Argo’s bow. We had stumbled upon a (most likely illegal) fishing net that was unlit and stretched on for hundreds of feet. With Argo in full reverse, we skirted the long line of white bottles and let out our breaths. Not only could we make some fishermen supremely angry by hitting their nets with our propeller, we were not eager to begin cutting the nets off on our first night of passage.

Unfortunately, during my four hour watch, we encountered at least six or seven more nets. Each time they were only a mere glimmer in the water, spotted once we were already on top of them. Thankfully Argo made her way gliding across them in neutral without any trouble. When I asked Chris why they didn’t just put lights on them he said, “Welcome to East Asia.” Which reminded me of another saying I was told when encountering some of my first major culture shock, “TIA: This is Africa.” Like TIA, I needed to remember that I was somewhere different where my sensibilities about fishing floats and lighting had no bearing.

When four o’clock rolled around, we passed the next watch off to Watch Team 2 and went to bed. Argo was carried safely through the night, managing to avoid any further encounters with fishing gear. The next day I was awakened at 8am by a friendly jostle, “we’re crossing the equator, come up on deck!” I hadn’t realized it would be so soon out of port that we would cross! I grabbed the poem that I posted for you all at the beginning of this blog and rolled it up. When I got up on deck, everyone was gathered around the cockpit nav station counting down the minutes as we edged closer to the great belt of the Earth. In an instant, beneath a shining sun and stunning seas, we were shellbacks (*sailor’s term for someone who has crossed the equator on a boat). I tossed the poem to the sea and then got in line to make my contribution to Neptune.

A note, a cheer, and a pair of clippers to my ear.

Yes Mom, sorry, I cut my hair. It’s quite short. I don’t suppose I meant for it to get as short as it did, but when the razor first struck there was no going back. Ah well, I like it, and I’ll like it even better when it grows out a bit more. Four girls and four guys cut our hair and threw it into the sea behind Argo. I have no idea where or when this tradition started, but I do know that whomever thought of it knew a thing or two about sea showers. I had thought that long hair would be nicer for ocean passages because I’d be able to put it back and keep it out of the way, whereas shorter hair only looked good if I could blow it dry (hint: no hair dryers on Argo). But I had forgotten to consider a degree of hair the razor reminded me of. No hair – no care! I’m not bald, haha, just very short of hair. I have to remember to put sunscreen on for a little while so I don’t burn too badly beneath the hot equator sun, but so far, so great.

The rest of our Shellback Day was spent taking classes, Marine Biology and Oceanography. I spent the time sitting on the floor as the waves had finally woken up the landlubber in me and despite my scopolamine patch I was a little green in the gills. Later that day I learned the hard way not to sleep on my back in the Foc’sle. But other than that mild case, and a diminished appetite for the Bolognese dinner, I felt fine. Watch was far less exciting on the second night of passage, which I was grateful for. Instead I learned to steer Argo and take the rounds of boat-check (my least favorite of the watch duties as I have to climb into the hot and stuffy engine room). The waves were crashing over Argo’s bow with serious ferocity, but she cut through them like she was born to do it.

However, with boats, something unexpected always happens. In the morning Captain Chris was called up on deck when it was discovered that not only had one of our two freshwater tanks been completely drained without the newly installed alarms going off, but the anchor locker (a compartment that shares a wall with the forward most wall of my bedroom, the foc’sle) had completely filled with the missing water. We had no choice but to drain it through the bilges. Argo went on water conservation mode while we turned our water-makers on. The water makers which use a process of reverse osmosis could provide us with plenty of water for our five day passage, but we hadn’t anticipated using them so soon. Further disturbing was that the anchor locker seemed to have a mixture of fresh water and salt water filling it to the brim. It would take us another day or two to realize that the locker was repeatedly filling with sea water due to a faulty design in the windlass drain passages (*windlass – a winch used specifically to raise and lower the 300lb anchor) a fault we hope to address while we are in Borneo. For the time being, it meant draining the locker chamber every 2 hours.

Now for those of you who are wondering what in the world I’m doing on a boat that breaks so much, let me tell you that this is nothing to be worried about. Argo is a steadfast boat that is built to last. She just underwent a $600,000.00 refit in her home Marina in Singapore and we were simply working out a few bugs that had yet to be addressed. Bryant, one of our staff, said that he wished that she had encountered more foul weather on her way to pick us up so that they could have had more of these minor repairs out of the way, but he and the other staff know this boat inside and out. They can repair her land or sea.

Day three of passage was beginning to blend into the other hours. All I knew was where I was supposed to be at the time. On watch. In class. In bed. Eating. On watch. Wash, rinse, repeat. I was still feeling queasy, and was beginning to wonder if I would have been better off staying on land where my stomach clearly belonged. But day four of Passage, my first day without Scopolamine (a 3 day patch) found me in high spirits. I felt great! The weather was blowing well over 20 knots (*knots – nautical measurement of speed), and we had three sails up to help the motor power upwind. I had learned to wedge myself into my bunk at night so I wouldn’t go rolling around the foc’sle, and I felt ready for anything the Ocean could throw at me.

I worked as a dryer for the dish crew, took notes during our professional sailing course for the 200 ton Captain’s license ::side note:: Due to the expense of taking the 5 day practical exam within the first year of taking the Theory Exam for this license (which I have the potential to take aboard Argo), and the further expenses that accumulate if I cannot schedule the exam within a year, I have decided to audit the class (it’s not one that gives me school credit anyway) and take as many notes as possible. That way, if I do decide to take the Exam later, the Theory test will only be review. :: ::

A class on navigation, showers, dinner, and watches rounded out day 4. I spent my evening with my new friend Camilla who is from Germany. Camilla was having a bad day. She felt sea sick, home sick, and was worried that Argo wouldn’t make a successful crossing – that we would die out on the ocean. I have to admit, there is always that chance, but there is such a chance in anything we do in life. I sat with Camilla and hugged her as she cried. We talked long into the night about her boyfriend Felix which helped her keep her mind off her stomach and her fears. Camilla wasn’t the only one to be worried about life at passage. My mind had doubts that were creeping in too. On day five they found me.

Day five of passage was the day we were supposed to arrive in Borneo. I woke up excited to cry, “land ho!” as the first grey sliver of land slid into view, but instead I got the news that we were at least a day behind schedule. The wind, the fishing gear, the squalls, had all set us back, and with each hour we lost in forward momentum, more time was added to passage. That morning we were also told a fact that none of us were aware of when we signed up for this voyage.

60 out of our 90 days of SeaMester will be at sea.

This is the part where I want to tell you I kept a stiff upper lip and embraced the sailor within me. But I want this blog to be a real record of my time out here, and that’s not what happened.

Those doubts about my place aboard Argo that Camilla had had the night before took hold of me. I was sick to my stomach, the boat was pitching back and forth with a ferocity new to her, it was raining, and I felt like crap. I felt stupid because I thought I was supposed to like passage. Some parts I liked, but some parts (especially the being sick part) I hated. My Mother had warned me that there would be parts I liked and parts I didn’t like – I knew that coming into this and was prepared to just deal with the things I didn’t like as an adult. But ocean passage, this time that was going to be not just over half, but the reasonable majority of my trip, was something I was supposed to like! I have been sailing since I was 6 years old, sailing is a part of my blood, so what was wrong with me?

Slowly I began to wonder if I would have been better off at home. I thought about my family and my friends and how much I missed them. I thought about the next 55 days of passage I would have to endure and felt even worse. I missed my roommates and my wonderful home with them. I missed not feeling sick. I felt gypped that my one good day at sea had not been a sign of overcoming sea sickness. But most of all, I felt stupid for thinking that crossing an ocean would be something that I would like. Instead it all felt like one of those “character building experiences” from your Dad. I didn’t want a character building experience. I wanted an adventure! I wanted to love the ocean and all its fury. Instead, I just felt small and ill and homesick. And to top everything off? My job that day was Headmaster. At some point during my misery I had to go down below and scrub clean all four properly disgusting bathrooms.

Everyone I talked to on the staff told me that it would get better, that being sea sick was mostly mental, and that I didn’t have to love ocean passage to love sailing. I was in my bunk before dinner wishing I could call home, or text my friends, or even just open my bible (which I had forgotten at home) when I decided that I felt an awful lot like Moses must have felt as he was walking through the Red Sea. I had to laugh when I remembered that the nine months since I had signed up for this voyage, our Pastor back in Eugene had been teaching his way through the book of Exodus. I was going through an Exodus of my own.

This trip finds me at a crazy place in my life. I am leaving behind traditional school, trying to get into graduate school, trying to find a full time job, moving out of my wonderful home with my friends and into my parent’s home until I can stand on my own two feet. In short, I’m taking the leap into being an Adult. I think I wanted this trip to test myself and see if I could handle something wild and difficult.

I was kneeling with my bead over the side of the boat when I realized how stupid I had been. I was homesick for a place I couldn’t go back to (my place with my lovely roommates), I’d be able to talk to my family soon and I knew that they loved me, and there was no big rule book in the sky saying I had to like anything about Ocean Passage at all. I am a firm believer that when the chips are down you have two choices in life: Laugh or Cry.

Well, I’d already done some crying, so I decided it was time to switch teams.

I think I probably looked a little crazy, but in that moment something in me flipped a switch. I was mad at the Ocean for making me sick and I was going to take that anger and harness it for productive energy. I threw up over the side and marched down below to clean the heads. I threw on my headphones, a bandanna over my face *bathrooms used by 30 people really reek* and got to work. There’s a song by Mercy Me that was blasting through my headphones and my heart while I worked:

“Last One Standing”

“Don’t you count me out cause I’ve fallen, out cause I’ve fallen down

I have landed down on my knees, oh down on my knees again

This is where I find the strength to carry on, this is where I find the strength to stand”

I went back up half way through cleaning the heads to throw up again, the “boot and rally” as it’s called here. When the last head was done, I knelt back down at the side of the boat, now officially Queen of the Boot and Rally. I was on watch for the next four hours, but instead of feeling miserable I smiled. I had fallen down to my knees before the mighty ocean, but I had found the strength to stand. I looked down at the waves and the bioluminescence glowing like the stars that littered the sky above me and laughed. I might be tiny and miserable and insignificant, but I had finally realized what Moses must have had to have realized as he walked through the walls of water towering above him:

My God is Bigger than the ocean. Whatever it throws at me, even death can’t beat the Crazy Universe Creating Wonder I have in my corner. A sense of peace came over me and after throwing up one more time, I sat back for watch and ate an apple or two. (The first real food I’d kept down all day).

I didn’t intend to make this blog into a preaching platform. I think there are more mysteries to this Universe than we’ll ever discover. I believe that whatever you believe or don’t believe doesn’t really matter. In the end we all find our own ways to Peace. I have found my Peace on my knees, throwing up after cleaning bathrooms in the middle of the South China Sea. Life’s funny that way sometimes.

I don’t expect to love passage as much as I thought I would at first, but I do expect that it will grow on me. I’m sure I’ll be sick again, and I’m even more sure that I’ll circle back around to doubts and fear. But I’m absolutely certain that I am not going to be afraid of the ocean anymore.

The rest of watch I spent cozied up close with my watch mates in the cockpit. We told scary ghost stories as Argo strode into a lightning storm and a squall. Watch Team 3 had to take down her sails in the early morning to keep her on course and the lightning knocked out our radar for a bit. But this morning, with all hands on deck for Boat Appreciation *cleaning* Borneo slid into view. It’s a fascinating city nestled up the river. Today we anchored, let customs/immigration on board, and ate dinner. During dinner on deck we were absolutely MOBBED by flying ants. There were hundreds of thousands of them crawling all over the boat wherever our lights shone on the deck. They were in our food, our hair, and everywhere underfoot. Everyone got a serious case of the heebie jeebies so we moved dishes downstairs and spent the better part of the evening swatting the buggers and cleaning them up with dustpans.

Tonight a tour guide from the Orangutan reserve we’ll visit tomorrow (overnight) came to talk to us about the trip. We’ll get to see Orangutans at 3 different stations, plant a tree, see giant crocodiles, even bigger tarantulas (not really bigger than a croc I guess, but they are called Bird eating Spiders), Proboscis monkeys, and fireflies that light up trees like its Christmas. I can’t wait for tomorrow, but my favorite part of today was sitting on top of the charthouse looking at Borneo. The town we’re next to, Kumai, has two Mosques that chanted out the call to prayer tonight. It was stunningly beautiful. I got a video of it that I hope to upload for you soon. There is something ancient and foreign and wonderful about this place. It’s the first time I’ve felt that I was truly away from anything Western, and I love it.

Anyway, I’m up super late writing this and I have the 4am to 5am anchor watch, so I should get back to sleep. More about the Orangutans soon. I plan to keep this blog as honest as I can. The good, the bad, and the Boot and Rally. As always, so much love to everyone back home. I miss you all, and can’t wait to skype or chat with you. No wifi in Borneo, but I’ll think of something soon. Love love love!

Spring break for most is a time to celebrate and enjoy free time, but for a small group spring break meant waking up at seven a.m. and being in class by eight. Why? Because we wanted to become WFR’s. For those not familiar with the term WFR, it stands for Wilderness First Responder and is a first aid certification like no other. Most first aid classes focus on the basics, setting students up to be prepared for minor injuries in an urban setting. The WFR class is an eighty hour course that prepares its students to deal with injuries and illnesses in the backcountry. Taught by NOLS (National Outdoor Leadership School), the WFR certification has become an industry standard and has improved the safety of trips lead by outdoor educators.

Photo Credit: David Anderson/NOLS

Taking the WFR is an undertaking of its own, it means committing to the eighty hour course, and for some City of Eugene River House staff it meant giving up spring break. The first day we met at 7:45 a.m., and next thing we knew it was day two and we were doing scenarios. Scenarios were used to teach us how to assess patients, plan for their care and record important details about the patient. We had the opportunity to have our scenarios near the Life Flight landing area which provided an exciting element when the Life Flight helicopter was taking off or landing.

The first scenarios were fun, and all of our practice patients were conveniently found lying on their backs, in the perfect patient position, which gave us the ability to easily assess them. By day four things changed, we went outside to find our patients and at first we could not. They were not lying on the grass or sidewalk, we looked around at each other wondering where the instructors had put our patients. Sensing our confusion the instructors pointed to the bushes lining the area we were standing in, as we approached the bushes we could see our patients, not conveniently placed on the grass and certainly not in the perfect patient position. Luckily for our patients we had spent the morning practicing rolls and carries that would protect their spines. We clambered into the bushes and proceed to carefully remove our patients, while the extraction and assessment went well, all of us had splinters from the mulch for the next few days. A reminder that patients don’t always lie down in the grass and get into the perfect patient position before having a medical emergency.

Throughout the class we were challenged to think critically and to use the information we had been taught to deal with unique situations. Overall the course provided an excellent understanding of the challenges we would face should medical issues arise in the back-country as well as how to handle issues and provide high quality care. While we may have given up our spring break, the information we learned is highly valuable and as summer approaches we feel ready to play outside knowing that if someone should have a medical emergency we are prepared to offer them a high level of care.

To take advantage of the first good snowfall of the season in the Cascades, eight of us board a bus at the River House Community Center, home turf for the City of Eugene’s outdoor program, and head east for the Hoodoo Ski Area in Sisters.

En route, we stop to gas up and grab some snacks. But before departing again, Anne Borland — driving separately — pops her head in the bus to give us our first instruction of the day. Anne is a senior River House instructor and the leader of today’s cross-country ski trip.

“I want you all to share your favorite beverage, favorite song and an activity you know really well,” she says, giggling a little at the fun of engaging a group of grown-ups in an icebreaker reminiscent of summer camp.

Milk, water, coffee and a local microbrew are mentioned. Biking, hiking, yoga and skiing are among activities our group knows well.

The icebreaker succeeds in getting us to laugh and talk, but for most of the group, the ice already has been broken. Seated on the bus are seven River House guides and just one newbie skier.

Today, Anne will lead a cross-country ski training for her fellow outdoor guides, each of whom teach different sports and activities at the River House.

As seasoned instructor Salmon Norgaard-Stroich explains, “River House invests in cross-training its employees.” The River House is selective with whom it entrusts to responsibly lead community members into the wilderness. And once they’re hired, River House takes the time to equip its guides with skills in many areas.

Since joining the staff in 1996, Salmon’s knowledge and skills in all areas have, he says, improved immensely.

Gear up, stride on

Anne, a River House instructor also since 1996, is particularly well-suited to lead today’s training.

Not only is she a pro on skis, but Anne has a naturally warm, supportive teaching style. Before leaving for Hoodoo, she checks in with the one novice in the group to make sure she’s wearing the appropriate attire — synthetic long johns, a wool or fleece sweater, and rain jacket and pants on top.

Never wear cotton when skiing, she advises. When you sweat, the moisture will just sit on your skin and make you cold. River House has some clothing available to loan, but participants provide their own gear. Berg’s Ski Shop rents skis, boots and poles for $10 a day, and $5 each additional.

Upon arrival, we head for Hoodoo’s groomed Nordic ski trails. Although you have to pay to use the groomed trails, the consistent terrain they provide is more forgiving for beginners. Today’s snow at Hoodoo is thick and powdery and perfect for falling.

Fortunately, the free heel on cross-country skis allows for a more natural range of motion than downhill skis, which lock your boots in place from heel to toe.

A locked-in heel does have its purpose in downhill skiing.

As Salmon puts it, “[It] prevents you from falling forward on your face. But it’s a lot more comfortable and natural to walk on cross-country skis.” The free heel also allows you to create the ankle flexion needed to propel forward in the classic cross-country motion, the “diagonal stride.”

During the lesson, Anne explains each movement like a professor of sports science — using terms such as “propulsion,” “flexion” and “extension.” But to help us translate the motion from brain to body, she uses fun, easy-to-remember imagery. To help us visualize the proper stride position — knees and ankles bent, body mass forward — Anne tells us to assume a “gorilla stance.”

Intermittently throughout the lesson, Anne also shouts “freeze frame,” commanding us to freeze in mid-diagonal stride.

And unexpectedly, the morning’s icebreaker becomes a tool to demonstrate how to carry our poles. “Don’t drop your favorite beverage!” Anne shouts as she merrily glides past, holding her poles ahead of her like a tray. To help us develop a rhythm — also key for efficient cross-country skiing — she instructs us to glide while singing our favorite song.

After a successful morning lesson, Anne has one more exercise in store. She tells us to drop our poles for a game of tag. Too busy dodging out of the way to worry if we have sufficient flexion, the exercise reinforces one key point: Don’t over-think it!

January through February, River House offers ski lessons for adults, age 16 to senior, as well as classes exclusively for seniors and youth. More advanced adult skiers also have a Level II option.

If new to skiing, you can always brave the trails on your own.

“But taking a lesson will make it so much more fun and efficient,” says Salmon, who admits he had to unlearn all of his self-taught bad habits. “You will be able to go faster, and farther.”

Register for classes here!

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Our Mission

Since its inception in 1966, the Outdoor Program has been dedicated to the ultimate outdoor experience. Offering a wide range of activities such as snowboarding, skiing, kayaking and more, the River House is here to help you take advantage of all Eugene and Oregon have to offer.

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